


brave face

by orphan_account



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Gender-neutral Reader, Other, Pre-Entity AU, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You should never have started talking to David King.
Relationships: David King (Dead by Daylight)/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	brave face

You weren't sure how it started.

You had been minding your business at the bar. Why were you there? The couple of empty glasses before you explained it, though you didn't want to admit that. Maybe you just wanted the haze of a dingy dive bar to swallow you whole and only spit you back out once the sun had risen. That's not something to be ashamed of, right? Everyone wants to lose themselves in a crowd once in a while. 

But he wasn't part of the plan. You were sitting alone in a booth, you closed your eyes and hummed to the beat of the song blaring in your ears, and then he was there. Smiling, smirking, grinning, et cetera. It was immediately obvious he was already gone, but the way he carried himself despite his obvious intoxication told you all you needed to know. An experienced frat boy, everybody knows the type, a dime a dozen.

“Name’s David.” He said to you without any pretense, and so you gave him yours just to be polite. When he leaned forward, his tattooed forearm between you and him, you knew what games he was about to play, and yet, you still played. You laughed at all his jokes and smiled when he complimented you. You didn’t even swat his hand away when he ran his fingers over your thigh underneath the table.

He offered you a drink or two. Typical fare. Just trying to be nice. You smile, yet again, and accept. Just a rum and coke for me, you say, I have work tomorrow morning. He nods and disappears to the bar. Honestly speaking, it’s hard not to notice how tight his pants are as he walks away. Nice ass, thick legs, noticeably big dick. He’d be a real catch if he wasn’t dressed like he just got out of the gym. You pressed your fingers against your temples. The music was droning on and on. Your forehead kept throbbing along to the tempo of the break-neck song playing. Work tomorrow. This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have been there.

No, you shouldn’t have went out. Not alone, at least.

He returned before long, gave you a pat on the shoulder, sympathetic. You shook your head and gave him your last apologetic smile in return. The drink in front of you was sweating in the hot and humid bar air, thick droplets of ice dripping down onto the table and forming a puddle. Your hands wrapped around it. The icey feeling was soothing, and the alcohol was comforting in its own way. You couldn’t help but down it in one go. It burned a little going down, maybe a little too much. You weren’t a newbie when it came to downing shots, but it was a long day and you just wanted to go home at this point.

You pulled out your phone while he was rambling about something you didn’t care about. You open up the Uber app and book a cab. Going out never fails to be expensive. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you still lived with your mother. Why do you need to live alone when you’re staying in the same city as me? You couldn’t give her an answer back then, but now, you were much more confident in your decision. It was the right call. Ten minutes until the cab got there. You rubbed at your eyes and let out a sigh. The music kept getting louder. How late was it? Maybe around one. You used to be able to stay out ‘til sunrise. What happened?

“You good?” He asked, his hand on top of yours. You took a deep breath and tried to stand, but as soon as you slid out of the booth, the world started spinning. Too much alcohol. Shouldn’t have taken that rum. David catches you before you fall, laughing a bit to make you feel better about being such a mess. You found yourself liking the attention. The way he held you up, wrapped his arm around your shoulder, laughed in his deep stupid jock way. You felt his voice reverberate through you. 

“I called a taxi.” You said. It was hard to enunciate, so you spoke carefully and slowly. A flash of embarrassment; you must have looked like a total mess to all the college kids walking around you. David took care of you, though, and made sure nobody bumped into you or anything. 

David grinned at you, but you just closed your eyes. It took all of your remaining mental power to not throw up those mozzarella sticks you had earlier. “Lemme escort ya there. Don’t want ya crackin’ your head open on the pavement.”

The night air was refreshingly cool. So nice. It took some of the nausea away, but your head still felt like it was being clenched in an industrial clamp. Your fingers were a little tingly too. Your friend said that happens to her sometimes. It felt weird. You slid your lethargic body into the passenger seat of a black sedan and pressed your head back against the seat. The noise of the club was fading away already as the Uber driver turned onto the street. The silence of the night was a comforting thing, the rumbling engine luring you into unconsciousness.

Then you were outside, walking into a hotel lobby. The young man working the front desk frowned at you as you handed your credit card over to him for a one night stay in the cheapest suite they have. You could smell the booze radiating off of you. You gave him a five dollar bill as a tip. Were you supposed to tip hotel staff? Probably. You couldn’t think hard enough to figure out the answer. His hands were on your hips then, guiding you down the hall, taking you into the elevator, leading you to your room. Wait, who’s hands? The desk guy’s? No, you’re going home, remember? The Uber driver dropped you off already.

Your back hit the hotel bed hard. The mattress was lumpy and firm, but at least the sheets smelled like lemon fabric softener. The roar of traffic outside the window lulled you to sleep again. The thing that kept you awake, though, was his fingers tracing the curves of your hips. His hands dug underneath the waist of your jeans hungrily, sliding them off ever so slowly. You groaned and bucked a bit, mostly out of instinct, but your body was too heavy to move. You couldn’t protest as he threw your clothes to the side and sat above you. His belt buckle flew off, a condom wrapped around his dick, and then his hands were pressing against your arms. You wouldn’t have moved anyway, but he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t struggle.

His tongue met yours and you closed your eyes. Some part of you, deep down, registered what was happening, and the chemicals in your veins reacted accordingly, but your brain wouldn’t do anything. It refused to save you, denied you of your dignity, kept you from screaming. Was it that drink? Had to have been. You weren’t that much of a lightweight.

You sucked in a shaky breath of air when you felt his cock dig inside of you. You were right when you said his dick was big, but with no time to prepare yourself, that was more of a curse than a blessing. His breath beat down on you as he thrusted in and out, panting, and it smelled like a mixture of barbeque sauce and alcohol. Your stomach rolled over, bile rising in your throat. Mom, you were right. Right about what? Everything. She was right when she said that top was too slutty. She was right when she said you shouldn’t stay out so late. She was right when she said you shouldn’t talk to strangers. She was right when she said

You were wrong. You made a mistake.

Then David came inside of you and wiped the tears off your face. “Don’t cry, love.” He whispered, and you hated his pity. It made you want to throw up. In fact, you did throw up, tossing onto your side and soiling the blankets beneath you. David just chuckled at this. “It’s all right. You won’t have to see me again.”

And then he was gone. Didn’t want to linger around, in case you sobered up too quickly. He left you alone in a puddle of your own vomit with his cum still coating your inner thighs. Shakily, you slid your legs off the side of the bed and pulled your pants back on. Torn at the knees. He left you broken like a child losing interest in a toy. It took all of your strength to push yourself onto your feet. What time was it? The light of the morning sun was peaking out over the horizon, pouring into the room. There was a throbbing pain in your head. The last couple hours were a total blur. All you could remember was him leaving. The sensation. The heat. The pain. How long had he been using you?

Luckily, you managed to make it to the bathroom this time, but not much came out when you threw up again. You raised your head and stared at yourself in the mirror. Where did these bruises come from? Your hair was such a mess. A hickey on your neck. You had to go home eventually, couldn’t stay here. The thought of looking back at that bed made you almost throw up for the third time, so you just put a brave face on, turned out the door, and left the hotel without even giving the receptionist a glance.

Thankfully, you still had your phone on you. A missed call from your roommate, then a text. “Did you hook up with a guy? Spaghetti’s in the fridge.” Then a winky face. Then a stupid fucking winky face. You wanted to throw your phone on the ground, stomp it to pieces, scream, shout, find that guy and rip his balls off, but you didn’t. You just stood there, holding your arms close to you, tears streaming down your face.

By the time your cab showed up, you were still crying. He didn’t ask any questions.

You just rode home in silence.


End file.
